Happy New Brexit

Eu-topia

(Brexit Brokeshit page 16)

            

In my Eu-topia,

Bureaucrats would be promoted solely on the grounds,

Of honesty, personal honour and due diligence,

An army of friends and an armoury of credentials,

Following after school chums, death-gripping their coattails

Would be grounds for immediate dismissal,

Also, the highest pensions should go to those,

Who don’t make real money,

In their prime, 

All right fine,

I’ll eat my Brussels sprouts and go to bed without dessert,

To have night terrors about nativist campaigners,

Because that’s really worked out so well in Europe’s past,

At midnight, I hold tight to my stuffed plush bear, Utopia,

A harmless fantasy, like Santa Claus when I was younger,

It helps keep me sane.

Brexit Brokeshit is available for £3.99 at Amazon.

Brexit Brokeshit has a new cover

Brexit Brokeshit, my collection of 37 poems and prose across 70 pages, now has a new look. Much like the change in the Prime Minister of the UK, the cover of Brexit Brokeshit is different, but the content is the same as the previous one. Another similarity lies in the fact that the change was unelected: this was a mandatory change needed to ensure the title matched the description. Nevertheless, here is a look at the new cover, and let’s hope it doesn’t get spaffed up the wall!

(Ps – I didn’t actually write any of this blurb, it was written by my own personal Dominic Cummings).

Billion Euro Cheeseburger – sample poem from Brexit Brokeshit

Billion Euro Cheeseburger

‘Billion Euro Cheeseburger’ – Brexit Brokeshit page 11

Billion Euro Cheeseburger, it’s coming soon,
whether through hyperinflation, hypergourmandation, avant-
garde arty stunting, or tax hole ‘sploitation, it is coming,
Billion Euro Cheeseburger,
laugh, don’t laugh, eyebrow arch, eyeball roll, same diff.:
a Billion Euro Cheeseburger’ll be served up, just the same,
‘But will you swallow it?’ will be the question claimed via
MEdia to be on everybody’s oft-spoken-for, static lips.
Billion Euro Cheeseburger, grab her by the buns and list off
every currency name securely deposited in your head, past
present, real and made up, blink and think of their symbols,
cos I can’t be bothered to do it for you anymore for I fear,
Billion Euro Cheeseburger, Happiness Hand Grenades and things
that make as much out of little sense as Grexit, stage left.

___

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